


Keeping Track of Time

by flamingsky



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamingsky/pseuds/flamingsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. It’s the 1920s and Brendon, a collector and trader, and Ryan, a writer, meet on a train to London. Romance and mystery ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The lanky frame rested against silky upholstery, watching the flashes of green, white, and red flashing by as the train accelerated from the Manchester station. Smoke billowed past his window, and the steady roar of the engine chugging along reached his ears. Ryan Ross reached for the silver pocket watch in his vest, feeling the grooves of his initials against his fingertips. He checked the position of the hands, and satisfied with the time he was making, resumed his work on the crossword of the day. 29 Across: The faculty of making happy and unexpected discoveries by accident. Ryan had been puzzling over the word since the paper had arrived that morning, and he glanced around the empty cabin in hopes of stumbling across the answer. A shadow darkened the milky glass of the door, and a well-groomed head poked in, interrupting his thought process.

“Pardon, is this cabin taken?”

Ryan looked up into the pair of brown eyes belonging to a well-dressed man in a slate grey three-piece suit and round silver glasses. Ryan rather preferred his solitude, yet he decided to share the space for the journey and watched the young man settle into the seat opposite him. His suit was immaculately fitted to his body, and his shoes gleamed from being freshly shined. The shining frames only complemented his demeanor, which was very friendly and warm and topped with black hair which was parted and combed immaculately into place. The stranger caught Ryan looking at him and his wide lips parted for a shy smile.

“I suppose I should introduce myself, given the hours of travel we have ahead of us. My name is Brendon Urie, collector and trader of various goods. Graduate of Oxford University, son of Boyd Urie.”

He finished his introduction with an awkward smile, unsure of what to say next. His father had taught him to present himself confidently, stating his credentials and heritage, but Brendon was always left wondering where to lead the conversation next. Thankfully, Ryan decided to return the gesture and in a less confident tone informed his temporary companion that he was a graduate of the University of Cambridge and a writer for a literary journal. He was on his way to London for a meeting with other authors, and he learned that Brendon would be attending a convention for the trade and exhibition of rare items. Ryan wanted to return to his work, but the melodious voice from across the room drew him into conversation. He found himself being asked about his work and was surprised to hear genuinely interested replies from the other man. Soon enough, he was handing over a selection from a short story he had written regarding the adventures of a cricket. He sat in tense silence as he watched Brendon’s eyes go over the page line by line, concentration furrowing his brow. Ryan noticed the way Brendon's mouth twitched at the corners when he read a particularly amusing part of the story, and slowly felt more relaxed and confident in the company of the young gentleman.

"That was certainly an entertaining and unique concept. Very rich writing. I must admit I would not mind trading my current life for this cricket's carefree one."

Ryan was curious about what was meant by that statement, but decided it would be rude to ask and focused instead on the compliment from his handsome companion. Yes, Ryan did find him handsome, but he reminded himself to keep his thoughts well hidden. He had studied the other man freely as he was occupied with the story, yet knew very well what troubles would befall him if he were to ever act on his fancies. Their conversation carried on, and they discovered that they both planned on staying in the same sector of the city and would likely see one another again. Both were relieved when Brendon suggested that they meet for lunch the next day and when Ryan accepted. They realized that they would be arriving at London shortly and began to gather their suitcases. As he was retrieving his from the overhead compartment, Ryan felt as though he was being stared at, yet when he turned back towards Brendon mere seconds later the other was busily straightening his jacket. The young men stepped out of their compartment, out of the train, onto the platform and into the sunlight. As they walked away from each other their heart rates increased, and the next day seemed an eternity away. 

* * *

Ryan walked into the neatly furnished room which contained a porcelain sink, a mirror, a narrow bed, and an oak dresser. Weary from the long journey, he placed his heavy suitcase on the wooden floor and removed his jacket, setting it on the crisp blanket neatly folded on the bed. He stepped towards room’s french doors and opened them, feeling the sunlight falling into his room as the London air came in. The balcony faced a small park, separated from the hotel by a cobblestone road. Ryan watched the stream of people and carriages mixed with cars for a few moments before returning inside. He washed his face in the sink and unpacked his belongs, aware of how often his thoughts drifted back to that morning on the train. As much as he wished to deny his thoughts, he could not prevent the smile of anticipation that overtook his face. All throughout dinner and until he promptly fell asleep that night, nestled under the cool sheets, he thought of brown eyes and gorgeous smiles.

Ryan fell into conversation with the writers easily, sipping tea as he listened to their discussions about tragic heroes. He was delighted and humbled to find that one of his fellow authors, a Spencer Smith, had saved several of the stories which Ryan had written and enjoyed them immensely.

“It’s a nice break from all those dark and brooding works,” he told Ryan in a conspiratorial tone, glancing at the other authors and smiling slightly. Ryan chuckled and Spencer’s light blue eyes lit up. They spent the remainder of the hour together in easy conversation, and as Ryan readied himself to leave he glanced at the clock on the wall, realizing that he still had another hour before his lunch with Brendon. He smiled to himself in anticipation, and stepped into the mild morning air, hope running through his young veins.

He headed back to his hotel and spent ten minutes in front of the mirror, trying to make sure that his tie was just right, its burgundy colour standing out against his dark blue suit jacket. He ran his hands through the brown curls on his head, trying to keep them down and eventually abandoning his efforts with a sigh. Glancing at his reflection one last time, he left his room and crossed the street to take in the garden he had seen from his balcony. He sauntered in the shade of the overhanging branches, hoping that the flowers and breeze would occupy his thoughts for the next half hour and distract him from the nerves building in his gut. His heart startled as he felt a hand on his shoulder, his mind instantly jumping to smiling dark brown eyes. Turning, his gaze fell on blue eyes instead.

“Ryan, good to see you again after such a long time apart!” Spencer exclaimed, laughing at his joke. “I thought I would try my hand at sketching some of the flowers here, since it is such a beautiful park.”

He offered a journal for inspection, and Ryan nodded appreciatively, taking in the details of the petals and stems. They walked together, gravel crunching under their feet, stopping now and then as Spencer would inspect a rose bush or a particularly unusual blossom. Before long Ryan had to leave, apologizing for leaving his new friend so suddenly. Spencer acted offended before grinning at Ryan and sending him off with a promise to show him more drawings at their next meeting.

* * *

Ryan searched the small tables set out in front of the café, relief washing through him as he spotted Brendon waving him over from where he was sitting. His heart rate increased and he grinned back at him lunchtime companion, skillfully weaving through chairs and tables to reach him.

“Looking fine today, Mr. Ross,” Brendon greeted him, and Ryan’s ears grew warm as he tried to suppress a blush. He reciprocated the compliment, still slightly flustered and noticing the slate grey colour of Brendon’s vest peeking out from under his navy blue jacket. He wished it were summer already so that he might be able to see what was underneath the jacket, under the vest, under the shirt, under- He stopped his thoughts and brought his gaze back to Brendon’s eyes, silently praying that he had not been staring. There was no sign of disgust or wariness from his companion, only an easy smile, and Ryan sat down quickly, hoping that food would refocus his thoughts. They ordered a coffee and a sandwich each and were soon enjoying their meal. Ryan was impressed with how delicious it was, chewing slowly to savor the taste and prolong their lunchtime together.

“And how was your meeting this morning? Did you discuss any deep philosophical writing mysteries?” Brendon asked teasingly, stirring more cream into his cup. Ryan watched the spoon disappear between his lips for a split second before tearing his gaze away and determinedly focusing on the conversation. He told him about Spencer and how much he admired Spencer’s artistic talent. He was recounting their stroll in the park when he noticed that Brendon seemed slightly less animated. Before he could wonder about it, Brendon suddenly asked him another question.

“Would you accompany me to an exhibition tonight? It’s about some new technologies and I’m not sure if you are interested at all, so I apologise if you have no desire to, and if you are busy I understand, of course-”

“Oh, no, I would very much enjoy that,” Ryan reassured his increasingly flustered companion with a smile. Brendon grinned in return and finished the remainder of his coffee. They paid and agreed that Ryan would meet Brendon at his hotel so they could walk to the exhibit together. Ryan watched the second hand of his watch move much too slowly for his liking and hoped that a time travel machine would be one of the contraptions presented that evening.


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan finally managed to tame his hair somewhat after dampening it slightly, and he hoped that it would stay wet long enough to last the night. He glanced at the mirror a last time, straightening his dark blue vest and running his hand over his jawline to check for any stubble he might have missed while shaving. Satisfied with his appearance, he embarked on the 5 minute walk to the inn at which Brendon was staying. He soon found himself standing at Brendon’s door and knocked hesitantly, slightly worried that he had the wrong room. However, he heard the familiar baritone voice inviting him to come in, and he stepped inside quickly. The room was larger than Ryan’s and more lavishly furnished, with several gold-framed paintings and silken upholstery. Brendon was facing the mirror and busy fastening a bow tie around his neck. Ryan enjoyed the view before he realized with a deep flash of embarrassment that he could probably be seen in the mirror. He averted his eyes quickly and cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Brendon and pleading with the gods that he hadn’t been noticed. He made a motion to wait outside until Brendon was ready to go.

“I just can’t manage to tie this!” Brendon exclaimed exasperatedly, holding the bow tie tightly in his fist. He scowled at the floor as Ryan crossed over to him and grabbed the end that was not trapped in the firm clutch. He tugged the fabric gently from Brendon’s hand, pulling at the sides to remove some of the wrinkles. Stepping closer, he put his arms behind Brendon’s head and crossed the tie around his neck, aware that his face was mere inches from Brendon’s. A few deft movements on his part and there was a beautifully tied, if slightly crumpled, bow tie now adorning Brendon’s neck. Ryan wanted to smooth his collar but thought better of it, his face flushing slightly as his pulse sped through his veins. He stepped back and glanced up at Brendon, whose eyes held an emotion that slightly resembled wonder and something else that Ryan couldn’t identify.

“We should go now,” Brendon suggested, voice slightly hoarse. They gathered their coats and stepped out into the cool evening air.

* * *

Brendon smoothed his hair back once again and set to work on tying his bow tie. He had never mastered the art and hoped that he would be done by the time Ryan arrived. Ryan, whose chocolate-brown eyes made his heart skip a beat every time they met his, and whose slightly unruly curls suited him perfectly. Brendon very much wanted to run his hands through that hair, and down Ryan’s back, over that perfect- there was a knock at the door, and a slightly timid voice that announced Ryan’s arrival. Speaking of the devil... Brendon asked him in, cursing himself for not being able to be done with the bow tie in time. Ryan stood awkwardly in the corner, taking in the admittedly lavish room, and Brendon attempted tying once again. He glanced back in the mirror at Ryan, and saw that he was quite focused on his backside, particularly his lower torso. Brendon became self-conscious, remembering his womanly hips, and tried to refocus on his task. Ryan was probably wondering how such an unfortunate thing could happen to a man, particularly one who came from such a background as his. Brendon grew increasingly upset and finally yanked the tie from his neck, balling it up in his hand. Why couldn’t he tie a bow tie, have smaller lips, and have a hips like a man? Ryan would never be impressed with him at this rate. Brendon glowered at the floor in frustration and saw Ryan come closer. He was probably going to say something insulting and leave, laughing at Brendon’s flaws. Braced for the blow, he was instead surprised with Ryan’s gentleness as he took the bow tie out of his hand. He felt Ryan’s hands working against his collar, his body so close to his own. Brendon considered grabbing him right then and kissing him the way he had fantasized about many times since their first meeting. His breathing grew slightly heavier and his mouth went dry as he prepared to make a move. But Ryan stepped back, looking at him expectantly and with an emotion Brendon could not place. Slightly breathless, Brendon suggested that they leave, not wanting to initiate anything he might regret.

* * *

Ryan and Brendon walked through the exhibition hall and took in the different creations, stopping now and then to watch the demonstration of something called a television and discussing how useful spiral-bound notebooks would be, given that they both often wrote down their ideas. They continued their stroll for an hour, marvelling at the genius of some ideas and questioning the use of others. Soon enough they had seen everything, but given that it was only 10:30, Brendon suggested they head to the pub for a few drinks before turning in for the night. Ryan happily complied, absently wondering how well Brendon and alcohol mixed. It only took a few whiskeys on both of their parts to find out the answer. Brendon giggled and leaned slightly into him, and Ryan squinted at the slightly blurry pocket watch in his hand, deciding that they had stayed out late enough for one evening. He grabbed Brendon’s arm to guide him off of his chair and out of the pub. They both were only moderately drunk, but he was determined to make sure that his companion got back to his hotel safely. Brendon let himself be led through the streets, laughing and singing show tunes. Even drunk and slightly wobbly he possessed a marvelous voice, and Ryan enjoyed the entertainment as they staggered along under the streetlights. Before too long he saw the sign of the inn illuminated by a lantern. He pulled Brendon up the stairs to the room, shushing him and only eliciting more laughter, causing him to laugh as well. He grabbed Brendon’s key from his coat pocket and unlocked the door.

“Come on, Mr. Urie, let’s get you to bed.”

“But Ryaaan, we were having so much fun,” Brendon whined, giggling again. Ryan chuckled and shook his head slightly at just how gone Brendon was. He removed Brendon’s jacket and hung it over the chaise lounge. Brendon removed his shoes, threatening to fall over before catching himself on the bedpost.

“Be careful, and make sure you get enough sleep so your hangover isn’t too terrible, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow, Brendon of Broadway,” Ryan said, halfway-earnest, as Brendon began to undo his belt. Despite Brendon’s drunken protests and entreaties to stay, he stepped out of the room and made his way through the cold to his own hotel room. He fell asleep almost instantly, but not before humming a few bars to a song and remembering Brendon’s perfectly shaped rear.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan awoke with a headache and a slightly sour taste in his mouth, a reminder of the previous night’s excursion. He grimaced at the light coming through the shutters, the brightness increasing the pounding sensation in his skull, and walked over to the sink, filling a cup with water. Sipping the cool liquid, he removed his pocket watch from his coat, which had become wrinkled from carelessly being tossed next to the dresser the previous night, and discovered that there was approximately an hour for him to shave, wash himself, get dressed, and prepare his notes for the authors meeting. He hurried through his morning routine, nicking himself with the razor in the process and frantically searching for clean and suitable attire. With fifteen minutes to walk multiple city blocks away, he grabbed his journal and pen and rushed out of the room, counting on his long legs to carry him there quickly. He was nearly out of the hotel’s entrance when the concierge called him back, telling him he had received a message.

“A young gentleman came in this morning and left a note for you, Mr. Ross. I was told to deliver it as soon as you arrived downstairs.”

Ryan grabbed the note from the man’s hands and shoved it into his pocket as he continued on his mission, dodging past servants carrying out chores and women idly chatting on the sidewalk. He arrived at the meeting house with no time to spare, trying to hide his breathless state as he entered the room in which the other writers were already seated comfortably, tea steaming in the cups in front of them. Spencer caught his eye and gave him a welcoming smile, lifting the tea kettle to pour some into Ryan’s cup. Ryan gave him an appreciative look, half-collapsing into the empty armchair next to him. His headache subsided as he drank the tea, and he began to feel more awake. Partway through jotting down interesting ideas and glancing at some sketches Spencer was showing him he remembered the note, still stuck in his pocket. He unfolded it carefully and smiled as he read the short sentence. Meet me in the park at the west gate at 12:30. -B.U.

“That sure is an unusual handwriting for a lady to have, don’t you think?” Spencer’s voice came from beside Ryan, who jumped at the unexpected intrusion. He immediately tucked the note away protectively, glancing around the table to see if anyone else had noticed.

“Well, maybe it’s not a lady,” he retorted, still caught off guard. He hoped that Spencer wouldn’t read too much into the note, especially given what he had just said about its author. Spencer raised his eyebrows speculatively but said nothing else, and Ryan was glad to leave the room not too long after, rushing out in part to get away from the situation and in part due to his excitement about seeing Brendon again. His eyes searched the park keenly and landed on the familiar handsome figure, who was standing alertly by the gate and hadn’t spotted him yet. Sunlight fell through the leaves onto his dark hair and highlighted his features with a warm glow, his entire body seeming to give off a soft light. Ryan stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to gaze at the picturesque sight in awe. He could have stood there forever, admiring the way the slight breeze gently lifted Brendon’s hair, how his lips curved into a slight smile and the way-

“Ouch!” Ryan felt a sharp pain against his ribs and looked down to see a small leather ball rolling away from his body. He searched for the source and saw a young boy run towards the ball, pick it up, and look at him defiantly. Ryan held his hand to his side, where he could already feel a bruise forming.

“Hey, how about you apologise to my friend here?”

Brendon had heard Ryan cry out and hurried over to the two of them. He placed himself slightly in front of Ryan and glared at the boy, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Brendon, it’s fine, it’s just a bruise, don’t worry about it,” Ryan said, wanting to leave the situation and not attract more eyes to himself. Brendon stared at the boy fiercely, still waiting for an apology. He turned his attention to Ryan, his features softening as concern replaced anger, and reached out his hand as though to check on Ryan’s condition before seeming to change his mind and hesitantly pulling his hand back. Ryan saw the boy looking between them with a look of hatred on his face.

“I knew it! You disgusting queers! I wish I had thrown the ball even harder, you sick animals,” he snarled venomously, spitting at their feet before turning and walking away. Ryan stood in shock, a numbness rushing through his body as he absorbed the words, leaving him feeling hollow. He slumped slightly, not even feeling the pain from the hit anymore. His ears turned red as shame spread through his body and years of name-calling came back, reminding him how unnatural his disposition was. Brendon’s voice came faintly through the haze in his head, and he looked up into his eyes, trying his best to keep himself from tearing up.

“There was something that I wanted to show you,” he said gently, looking at Ryan sympathetically and gesturing for him to follow. He didn’t ask any questions or speak to him at all as they walked down a slightly overgrown trail that led through the small forest bordering the park, sticks snapping under their feet as plants clung to their pant legs. Approximately three minutes later they were standing at the edge of a small clearing, where a brook ran along the far end before disappearing back into the line of trees and the grass was slightly flattened from frequently being stepped upon. Ryan noticed a woven basket that was covered with a cloth and placed upon an unfolded blanket that took up a majority of the small space. Following Brendon’s lead, he stepped into the clearing and sat down carefully, not wanting to invade Brendon’s personal space but also avoiding sitting on the basket. He ended up to the left of Brendon, on the corner of the blanket with the basket half a foot away from his awkwardly placed long legs.

“You can take off your shoes; that makes it easier to sit and more comfortable,” he heard Brendon tell him, and he gladly obliged, enjoying the fresh air against his feet and the ability to stretch out some without worrying about dirtying the blanket.

“So, how do you like it? I come here often when I need to think or want an escape from the city life. It’s not particularly spacious, I know and I apologise, but it’s small space that is just my own. And, well, yours too now,” he added with a bright smile. Ryan returned the smile and listened to the bubbling of the stream as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his body. All of the tension from earlier began to leave him. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he heard nothing from the outside world, only birdsong and Brendon’s even breathing.

“I like it very much,” he replied warmly. “Thank you for showing me.” Brendon seemed pleased with his answer and reached for the basket, uncovering it to reveal a loaf of bread, an assortment of meats and cheeses, as well as butter, strawberries, and a bottle of wine. Ryan looked at the picnic in amazement, blushing slightly at the gesture and remembering how hungry he felt, having only had tea and a few biscuits earlier in the day.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked so I bought some of everything,” Brendon told him shyly. Ryan was overwhelmed by such thoughtfulness, croaking out an awed ‘thank you’ as his cheeks flushed a deeper pink. He couldn’t decide which he wanted more: to grab food and finally eat something, or to launch himself onto Brendon and express his adoration. His stomach quickly won the debate with a growl, and he was halfway through making his second sandwich when he asked why exactly he was here.

“Oh, I just wanted to share this with you... I figured you could keep a secret, and I thought you might enjoy being here. I mean, I like being with you, and I love this space and-” Brendon stopped himself awkwardly, quickly turning back to his own food. Ryan saw a small blush appear on the young man’s cheeks and felt his own heart leap in reaction to being the person with whom Brendon decided to share the moment. Neither of them said anything as they finished their meals, Brendon enjoying the strawberries as Ryan sipped at his glass of wine and allowed himself to lean back against a tree. He gazed at Brendon contentedly, a look of adoration slowly spreading across his face. He caught himself as Brendon looked up at him, and hid his feelings with an even smile.

“You have something in your hair,” Brendon told him, looking slightly amused. Ryan reached for his head quickly, embarrassed and wondering how long it had been there, whatever it was.

“Let me,” came Brendon’s voice as he moved closer to Ryan, gently running his hand through the young man’s locks. He brushed a stray leaf from Ryan’s hair but kept his hands in place, cupping the side of his head. They paused, each holding their breaths in tense hesitation as they stared into each other’s eyes. Brendon slowly brought his face closer as Ryan tilted his head and leaned in, his heart beating incredibly fast. He closed his eyes and felt Brendon’s lips on his, a soft pressure that tasted of strawberries and wine. They both pulled back for a moment to regain some composure but almost immediately leaned back in, wanting more of each other. Brendon came closer as Ryan put his fingers in his hair, drawing him in. Ryan moaned accidentally and they both laughed softly, feeling each other’s breaths as their foreheads touched and they exhaled. They came together again, slowly figuring each other out and each working out the other’s ways. Ryan felt very light and wanted to spend the rest of the day just like this, kissing Brendon in the afternoon glow. He suddenly opened his eyes and pulled back, noticing the position of the sun. Digging his watch out of his pocket he gasped as he realized how late it had gotten.

“Brendon, I’m so sorry and I would love to continue this for, well, a very long time, but I promised Spencer yesterday that we would have another round in the park together. We’re supposed to meet in eight minutes,” he said, a mixture of regret and urgency in his voice. He flattened his hair, struggled to put his shoes back on, and quickly gathered up the picnic supplies, helping Brendon clean up as much as possible. The latter seemed very despondent, and Ryan felt guilt seep into him, quickly replacing the joy of a few moments ago.

“I’ll make it up to you later, alright? Can I come by your room tonight? I truly wish that I didn’t have to leave right now.”

Brendon still looked annoyed and unhappy but in slightly better spirits, and Ryan pressed one last, deep kiss against his mouth, pulling him close before rushing out of the clearing.

* * *

Ryan readjusted his shirt as he burst back onto the main walkway and spotted Spencer, notebook in hand, standing next to a bed of tulips. He brushed his hair into place and took a deep breath as he greeted his friend, hoping that he didn’t look too dishevelled. His heart was still pounding from the kiss- no, kisses- and Spencer slightly narrowed his eyes as he greeted Ryan, as though he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was out of place in his appearance. Ryan offered a breathless smile and quickly inquired about his friend’s drawings, directing the attention away from himself. As they strolled through the park, Ryan was very distracted by the images of the clearing and Brendon’s gorgeous reddened lips, and the memory of another body against his own. Noticing his friend’s lack of investment in the conversation, in an effort to bring back his focus, Spencer irritably asked Ryan if he wanted to join for lunch. When Ryan informed him that he had already eaten, a blush spreading over his cheeks, Spencer sighed at his friend, no longer making an effort to hide his exasperation.

“Look, my friend, while I’m very glad that you seem to have found quite the lovely girl, I would appreciate at least some semblance of being interested in our conversation!”

Ryan opened his mouth to correct the gender and quickly shut it again, instead giving his friend an apologetic look. He really had been acting very inconsiderately, he realized with a rush of guilt.

“Spencer, I’m truly sorry. How about we go to a café nearby and chat there? You can have lunch and I will get something to drink, and I promise I will be more focused. I really do enjoy your presence, I’m just mildly... distracted right now. I’m sorry.”

He knew that his euphoria was no excuse for his thoughtless behaviour, and he was very glad when Spencer accepted his proposition as a reconciliation. They exited the park and entered a certain Rosewood Café, where Spencer ordered an apple pastry with tea and Ryan asked for a cup of coffee.

“So, tell me more about this lady of yours,” Spencer asked once they were seated, curious as to whom it was that had sent his friend’s mind into disarray. Ryan stiffened again at the female implication, and wondered whether Spencer had even heard his earlier comment about the note not being from a woman.

“H-She is very thoughtful, inventive, gorgeous, entertaining... So many things, really,” he replied, resisting the urge to tell Spencer everything about Brendon’s wonderful self, including the fact that he was a man. Although he wanted to add more, because those adjectives barely covered anything, he reminded himself to focus on Spencer and asked him about his own love life.

“Well, I am currently involved with someone; we’ve been together for almost a year now, but are currently on opposite sides of the country,” came Spencer’s reply, wistfulness colouring his tone. He looked as though he was about to add more, but the waitress came by and Spencer immediately directed his attention to his pastry; Ryan realized that he must have been hungrier than he’d let on, and he sipped his coffee, once again feeling remorse about his lack of consideration. They didn’t linger too long after they were finished, as Spencer had to work on a story for a journal, and Ryan sighed as he looked at his watch, wondering how he was going to spend the next few hours until he could see Brendon again. He decided to wander around the area and explore the shops which lined the streets.

There were several clothing stores, all advertising the newest in fabrics and fit, and nestled between two of such shops was a store which looked like a mix between a bookstore and room with a random assortment of items. It caught Ryan’s attention immediately and he entered slowly, taking in the sunlit room and its many shelves, which were covered in a wide variety of objects and books. On one shelf, an oil lamp stood next to a set of glass bowls, which were accompanied by a ragged doll in a worn blue dress. There was no order as far as Ryan could tell, and so he began to wander among the aisles and explore. He rounded a corner and stopped dead in his tracks to avoid colliding with another person. The unexpected man was a few inches taller than Ryan, his lanky frame dressed in a beige suit and a bowler hat, and his brunet hair barely brushed the tops of his shoulders.

“Ah, I thought I heard someone come in! Hello, dear sir, my name is William! How are you?” he greeted Ryan, his face decorated with a smile that reached his chestnut brown eyes. Ryan recovered his senses and looked at the attractive and enthusiastic man standing in front of him.

“I’m doing well, thank you. You certainly have an impressive amount of things in here,” he remarked, noticing that even the tops of the shelves were stocked full.

“Why thank you! Is there anything in particular that you’re looking for?” William asked him. Ryan told him that he was merely having a look around, which William took as an invitation to grab his arm and lead him on a tour through the shop. Finally, after about 10 minutes of weaving, chatting,  and demonstrating, they reached the end of the last aisle, which ended against a wall and was lined on either side by various tools and jewelry items.

“Have you seen anything that caught your fancy? Or, perhaps, you’re looking for something else?” William asked Ryan, stepping closer and making the already tight space even smaller. He leaned towards his customer suggestively, hovering a few inches from Ryan’s face.

“U-uhm,” Ryan stuttered unintelligently, caught very much off guard. A month ago he would given in, as he had been lacking physical affection, and besides, William was quite charming.

“I, uhm, I have someone,” he managed to stammer, his heart racing as he glanced around for something, anything to use for defense. William, however stepped away and removed his hand from Ryan’s arm.

“Ah, of course you do, I should have guessed. My apologies. Please, forgive me for intruding,” William said, regret written all over his face. Ryan decided that William truly had no bad intentions and forgave his actions, instead turning his attention to something that his caught his eye as he was looking for an escape.

“Is that a pocket knife?” he asked, picking up a small rectangular object. William nodded as Ryan unfolded the compartments and inspected the different tools.

“I think I’ll take this, actually,” he said, following William to the counter. Ryan paid and as he turned to walk out, he heard William’s voice.

“A shame, you really are quite attractive. Ah well, I’m sure Gabe will be dropping by very soon,” he added, a smile coming into his voice. He wished Ryan a good day, and Ryan already had another visit in mind; there were so many things to look at, and William was a very amicable person. He looked at his watch. Three more hours. His stomach fluttered with anticipation and he headed back to his room to get ready for the evening.

* * *

At ten till seven Ryan glanced in the mirror one last time and stepped out the door, bracing himself against the cooler night air. He made his way quickly along the path towards the inn, enjoying the way the light of the lanterns softly illuminated the pavement as well as the slowed pace of activity along the street. Reliving the memory from their earlier encounter, he sped up and hoped that he could make everything up to Brendon. He had just knocked on the door when it opened, revealing Brendon’s face, which wore a dazzling smile. Ryan answered with a grin of his own, quickly stepping inside and barely giving Brendon a chance to close the door before kissing his lips enthusiastically. They stood that way for a few minutes, Ryan bending down slightly and both holding each other tightly. Finally, they pulled apart, slightly breathless and eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” Ryan said, smiling widely and still tasting Brendon on his lips.

“I missed you too, especially since you left me so suddenly, Mr. Ross,” Brendon replied, slight indignation in his tone despite the smile on his face.

“I’m really sorry,” Ryan said for what felt like the millionth time that day, and added,“Maybe this will help make up for it?”

He pulled the pocket knife, which William had kindly wrapped for him, from his inner vest pocket and handed it to Brendon. While Brendon set to work unwrapping it, Ryan looked over at the desk, which was illuminated by a bright light and had several tools and an unidentifiable object resting on it. He turned his attention back to Brendon, who had just pulled the gift from its wrapping and was opening the different tool compartments with interest.

“Ryan, this is perfect!” he exclaimed, pulling Ryan in for a tight hug. He was blushing at the gesture and led his companion by the hand over to his desk.

“I can use this to restore this piece,” he said, looking down at what appeared to be a small and ornate trunk, “and I’m sure it will be useful for many other things as well.” Ryan once again smiled at Brendon’s beaming face, delighted that he liked his present.

“Can you show me what exactly you are doing?” Ryan asked, looking at the trunk with interest. Brendon invited him to pull up an armchair that was sitting in one corner of the room and they sat close together, Ryan watching the skilled way in which Brendon’s hands worked and listening as he explained some of the details of restoration and muttered to himself while he worked. He looked over Brendon’s entire form, taking in the details of his face and the way his eyebrows came together when he was concentrating on a small detail, and how he bent over his work, completely absorbed and yet also careful of his surroundings. Ryan didn’t realize how close he was leaning towards Brendon until Brendon looked up and startled at the unexpected proximity before looking at his watch and quickly setting everything aside.

“Ryan, I’m so sorry, I’ve kept you sitting there for almost an hour and a half,” he said apologetically, shaking his head at himself. Ryan quickly reassured him that he didn’t mind.

“I like watching you work,” he told him truthfully. Brendon smiled sheepishly and suggested that they take a walk and get some fresh air. They grabbed their coats and walked out of the inn. It had cooled off even more and Ryan shivered slightly, pulling his jacket closer to his thin body and walking closer to Brendon while resisting the urge to cuddle into his arms right there in the middle of the street. He soon recognized the tightly padlocked iron-wrought gates of the park in which they had met earlier and wondered what exactly Brendon was doing.

“You’ll see,” Brendon replied with a wink. Ryan trusted him and followed, looking dubiously at the massive bushes that Brendon had ducked into before sneaking into them himself, going through the short tunnel created by the overlapping branches. He was surprised when he emerged on the other side and found himself now in the park. Brendon stood waiting a short distance away, and together they walked in the direction of the pond, in a comfortable silence that let only their muffled footsteps be heard. Their surroundings were muted shades of their daytime colours and the still water of the pond shone silver with the moonlight. Ryan looked at the simple beauty of the tranquility around him in quiet wonder, yet nothing had prepared him for what lay above as his gaze followed that of Brendon, who now stood still near the water’s edge. Stars shone in all directions in the brilliantly clear sky overhead, the lack of trees providing the pair an uninhibited view. Ryan exhaled, awestruck at the beautiful sight overhead. He felt Brendon lean into him and he took him into his arms, holding him close as they shared the moment in content solemnity. After a short while he felt Brendon shivering against him and remembered the cold, squeezing him closer. They looked at each other with a renewed sense of wonder. This kiss was different from any of their earlier ones, gentle and slow, and Ryan forgot about the cold for a good while as they walked back to the inn together. It was getting close to midnight, but they wanted to stay together for a while longer, and neither was busy with plans the next day. The warmth inside Brendon’s room contrasted with the cool outdoor air in such a way that Ryan involuntarily shivered, which Brendon took as a sign of him being cold after removing his jacket. He walked over and draped his blanket around Ryan’s shoulders and invited him to join him in sitting on the bed.

“Tell me something no one knows about you,” Ryan said, leaning against Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon looked troubled for a moment, but then his face almost immediately changed and he gave Ryan a roguish smile.

“Uh, well, I may or may not have set my family’s parrots loose in the house once after my father was particularly cruel towards one of our servants. It took several days to capture them and clean up the mess they left behind, particularly in my father’s office, and everyone thinks it must have been a faulty lock on all of their cages,” he imparted conspiratorially, and they both laughed at the story like young schoolboys. Ryan imagined Brendon’s father’s face when he discovered what had happened and laughed even more at the mischief of a young Brendon.

“How about you?” Brendon prompted.

“I can’t swim,” Ryan confessed, embarrassment apparent on his face.

“Oh, well that’s alright. England may be rainy, but I doubt you’ll drown,” Brendon reassured him humourously. Ryan smiled and gave his shoulder a gentle shove, which Brendon pretended was much more forceful than it actually was, falling onto his side on the bed. Ryan rolled his eyes and lay down next to him, which was more comfortable than leaning against a hard wall anyways. They continued talking, laying facing each other and holding hands. Gradually, Ryan noticed Brendon’s eyes closing for increasing periods of time, until finally they stayed closed and his breathing became even and deep. Ryan smiled at the adorable sight of Brendon’s peaceful sleeping face, kissing his forehead gently before carefully disentangling his fingers and silently removing himself from the bed. He tucked the blanket over Brendon’s relaxed form and put on his shoes and jacket. Looking at his pocket watch, he noticed with surprised that it was three in the morning. Taking care to not make any sound, he looked at Brendon one last time before carefully closing the door and returning to his own room, where he promptly fell into a peaceful slumber.


End file.
